iPoem · 5800.5886.265.895 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum

Based on Raymond Queneau’s A Hundred Thousand Billion Poems, The 100,000,000,000,000 iPoem is a non-commercial artistic project inspired by Queneau’s work and the tradition of literary variation it inaugurated.
→ iPoem 5800.5886.265.895 (no. 801,199) was generated on October 24, 2026 at 10:38 am
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